A Place to Call Home
by Debra N
Summary: Ezra and Vin decide the time has come to share how they found their way to Chris's door. Set in The Sentinel universe but will not feature Sentinel characters. Fourth story in the 'Cub & Kit' series.
1. Prolog

**Author's note: I do not own the rights to The Magnificent Seven. No profit was make and only respect is intended. I'd like to thank Angela and Taryn for their beta efforts. Any remaining mistakes are my fault. Let me know where they are and I'll correct them.**

**This is for the many fans who have asked (sometimes repeatedly) how Chris came to be Ezra and Vin's father. I hope you will enjoy their story. **

* * *

Ezra practiced his shuffling techniques with a new deck of cards. They were still too stiff for his liking, and he wanted to break them in. He noted Vin's arrival in his room, but maintained focus on his cards.

"Is that the new deck from Buck?" wondered Vin as he plopped down on the edge of Ezra's bed.

"Indeed," replied Ezra. The cards were finally starting to flow more easily through his hands. Shuffle, slide, shuffle, stack.

"Any chance you'll be done with that soon?" asked Vin.

Ezra's hands stilled. "You require my assistance?"

"No, not require. I was just hoping you might finish that story you started last night. Chris said we had to go to bed because it was a school night, but tonight it's not." The words tumbled out of Vin's mouth in an uncharacteristic rush.

Ezra felt flattered that his impromptu story so entertained his brother. "I'm not entirely sure where I left off," he admitted. The rather fantastical adventure had formed in his head several weeks after reading a couple of Michael Stackpole books.

"The sorceress just appeared in the sanctuary to tell the Seven about the prophesy that bound them," supplied Vin making himself more comfortable on the bed.

Ezra nodded. "Though they had been warned it would be too dangerous to join the other Chaos Riders in battling the demon army, Chris wasn't willing to abandon the already outnumbered warriors. So instead, he asked the sorceress to teleport them to the caves of the Black Church, where the demons planned to launch their invasion. It was a risky gamble to try and cut the invasion off before it got too far. . ." Ezra continued to weave his story of demons, elves, dwarves, magic users, and the ordinary humans caught up in their Chaotic realm. He'd been surprised by how natural it felt to create these fanciful tales. Vin enjoyed the stories so much that Ezra often felt compelled to write bits down in notebooks, on scraps of paper, and even in a new folder on his computer, so that he could share his ideas with his brother later. It was strangely satisfying to see a finished story grow from the stray thoughts of his mind. Ezra quickly discovered writing could be both relaxing and somewhat addictive. "The End," announced Ezra as his latest tale wound to an end. He gave a proper bow when Vin began to applaud his story's conclusion, but nearly jumped out of his skin when a second pair of hands joined in. "Chris, I didn't know you were there," Ezra spoke nervously.

"Your story was so good I didn't want to interrupt," complimented Chris. "Besides, it's not everyday that I get made into the prophesied leader of a group destined to save their world." Chris couldn't help teasing a little. He'd already decided it was best if Buck didn't find out he was one of the heroes of the story, the man possessed a big enough ego without any further encouragement. Chris also noted how Ezra made both Vin and himself adults in his story, so they could all work together. Adam used to do the same thing when playing make believe. At thirteen, Ezra was supposed to be beyond such parental attachments, but Chris felt glad Ezra thought enough of his foster father to make him a part of the story. "Have you ever given any consideration to writing one of your stories down?"

Within the span of a few seconds Ezra looked first elated, and then crestfallen. "Mother insisted that indulging in fantasy was a ludicrous waste of valuable time," murmured Ezra. It was one thing to share his stories with his younger brother, and quite another to expose them to a larger audience.

Chris bit his tongue against his first impulse. Speaking harshly of Maude would only end up hurting Ezra. "I suppose that might be true for someone who was trying to focus on their work, but the fact is; you're a teenager now, Ezra. It is the duty of every teenager to spend at least part of every day, wasting time. Where do you think the truism of the teenage slacker came from?" Chris was quite pleased with his impromptu line of crap.

Ezra looked just as pleased to have a justified 'out' to one of his Mother's rules. "I certainly wouldn't want to fail in my duty as a teenager," agreed Ezra.

"Good. I'm looking forward to reading your next story," assured Chris.

Ezra looked momentarily shocked; he didn't recall promising Chris a story. He'd just been conned!

"You boys can stay up a bit more if you'd like," Chris continued, "but I'll expect you to be ready by ten, so we can make it to Nathan and Rain's on time tomorrow. Good night, boys." He made a quick retreat while Ezra still looked shocked and confused.

"I can't believe I let him con me," moaned Ezra. His mother would be so disappointed if she were to see him now.

"Don't take it too hard, Ezra. You've just never dealt with this sort of con before. You're used to cons where people lose or have to sacrifice something. When parents con, it is usually about trying to improve their kids somehow." A fond smile crossed Vin's lips. "Ma used to always con me into trying new things. Afterwards, I was almost always glad that she did," he admitted.

"I suppose I can concede this round to Chris," decided Ezra, pulling on a pajama shirt. "But he better not try to make a habit of it."

Ezra pulled out a note book and pen, tapping the latter upon the first page of the former while he considered what story to write. As much as he enjoyed the characters he created for the world of Chaos, he didn't want to write another story about them just then. In fact, Ezra had a radical idea of what he wanted to write about. It would make Chris happy, answering many of the questions he and Vin had been unwilling to answer until now. After writing a rough outline, Ezra called Vin over, and pointing at what he'd written asked, "What do you think?"

Vin read the words slowly, and then read them again to make sure he understood them right the first time. The eleven-year-old looked at his thirteen-year-old best friend and foster brother. "You want to tell them everything?"

"Many of the reasons we kept quiet no longer apply," Ezra pointed out. "Now that we have learned you are a Sentinel and I am a Guide, much of what you were able to do can be easily explained; as long as you do not object. My only remaining hesitation involves your ethereal friend."

Vin snorted, "Is it really that hard to say the word ghost?"

"If you must be so plain spoken, I would prefer the term spirit," Ezra asserted. "Ghost implies participation in some cut-rate theatrical presentation."

"Fine," huffed Vin, "_our _spirit friend has no objections to you writing everything that happened, including his part in it. I think Chris and the others should know everything, too."

"It's decided then," Ezra confirmed. The thirteen-year-old felt both a rush of determination and a bit of fear. Going forward with writing the story he planned would violate one of Maude's rules of the con: Never show them who you really are. It was second only to her often repeated: Appearances are everything. In truth, while Maude's rules served him well while on the run, they seemed more of a hindrance now that he'd become part of Larabee's family. Part of him still feared Chris would eventually abandon him the way Maude had so many times. Yet over the last few months, that part had become smaller and smaller, through Larabee's consistent care. "It's time to explain to Chris and the others how we found our way to his door," he murmured as he again set pen to paper.


	2. Spirit guidance

**Author's notes: I've tried to answer everyone's reviews but for those who don't enable private messaging or review as guests:**

m – Thank you. I hope this chapter meets your expectations.

Kathy M – Repeated requests like yours are the main reason I'm finally tackling this story. I couldn't ask for a better compliment than knowing my stories are read again and again. Thank you.

lunaz – Thanks, I appreciate the feedback.

Tinwhistle – I'm glad to hear you're a fan of the series. Yes, there will be more chapters. It should be about three or four, but I never know for sure until I get it all down. You should also treat yourself to an ounce of dark chocolate for realizing the story Ezra was telling Vin was Chaos Rising. As the first fan fiction I ever tried to write, it holds a special place in my heart. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.

Sisturnickyahoo – Thanks for saying I write the characters well. The Seven have long been favorites of mine and it's good to hear I'm not messing them up too badly.

Anonymous Guest – I'll do my best to update at least once a month.

Thanks again to everyone who is following or checked favorite for this story and its author. It really does warm my heart to know others are enjoying this labor of love. Now: on with the story . . .

* * *

Ezra carefully peeked out the shaded side of the window. After squatting in the abandoned house for three weeks, Vin and Ezra knew which of the surrounding buildings were most likely to bring trouble. The house to their south had a collapsed roof and significant water damage. Not even those wasted on booze and drugs ventured into that death trap. The two houses behind them included an apparent shut-in with bars on all of his windows, and a drug house which saw a brisk business of both junkies and recreational users.

To the north stood the barely maintained two story of a struggling single mother of three. In Ezra's opinion, Miss Tanya was a nice lady, who apparently possessed abysmal taste in men; since not one of her children's fathers bothered to stick around. Despite their best attempts to stay hidden in the vacant house, Miss Tanya not only noticed them after only four days, but offered to share food. In return, Vin helped out with small repairs to the house and yard while Ezra tutored the children. About a week into their arrangement, Miss Tanya broached the subject of the boy's lack of proper guardians. Ezra coldly responded that after the last person who had been granted custody tried to kill them, they decided they were better off alone. When Miss Tanya offered to take them in herself, Vin and Ezra were much more polite, though still firm in their refusal. After three months on the run from Humboldt and his arms dealing thugs, the boys weren't going to risk putting Miss Tanya and her children in danger. So their alliance continued for the next two weeks. Ezra had high hopes for all three of his pupils, assuming the current problems across the street didn't force them to flee again.

A familiar creek from the hall stairwell caused Ezra to turn. Relief filled him when he recognized Vin moving up the stairs.

"Looks like you noticed the ruckus across the way," drawled the ten-year-old Texan.

"It would be hard to miss the veritable legion of ATF agents swarming in and out of the abode across the street," insisted Ezra.

"Did you notice the blond fellow in charge?" asked Vin as he hunkered down next to his friend.

"Yes, I noted the fair-haired bellower of orders. Why do you ask?" Ezra knew Vin well enough to understand he was not the sort to engage in idle chit-chat. Vin must have a reason for singling out the ATF leader.

"You said we would never be safe until Humboldt either died or got thrown in jail," Vin reminded. "We could give Mr. ATF the information on the thumb drive your mother told you to steal. You said it proved he broke a bunch of laws. We could finally stop running."

"While I can't deny I've grown weary of our less than stellar accommodations, what makes you think we should trust this particular agent? How do we know he isn't one of the law enforcement officers on Humboldt's payroll?" questioned Ezra. It was the main reason they hadn't taken their evidence to the authorities already; information on the thumb drive indicated Humboldt had members of both federal and state law enforcement on his payroll, though sadly no names were mentioned. If they chose the wrong person to trust it would mean the end of both of their lives.

"I'm telling you, Ezra," Vin insisted with unexpected conviction, "there is no way Chris Larabee is on the take. He's a better man than that."

The way Vin glanced furtively towards the apparently empty corner of the room gave Ezra a suspicion who might be supplying Vin with his new information. Ezra sighed, wishing he could see the ghostly advisor Vin seemed to trust so much. "Am I to assume, you learned this Agent Larabee's name from your ethereal friend? Is he Adam's idea?" Ezra asked with unusual directness.

"We've talked about trying to get the cops to deal with Humboldt for a while now," reminded Vin. "Adam is just letting us know which cop we can trust."

Ezra pursed his lips in thought. The habit of trusting anyone had been drilled out of him long ago by his mother. It was only after Vin saved Ezra's life at great risk to his own that Ezra became willing to trust the young Texan. Ezra's trust wavered when Vin admitted he sometimes took guidance from the spirit of a boy named Adam. According to Vin, Adam was helping them, in part, to prevent them meeting the same fate he had. Ezra initially dismissed 'Adam' as an imaginary friend Vin should be too old for. Only Vin's persistent certainty, combined with numerous bits of information Vin couldn't possibly know, which he insisted Adam told him, made Ezra even consider the possibility.

In the end, it was two near misses with Humboldt's thugs which finally convinced Ezra of Adam the ghost's real existence. The first occurrence happened three weeks into their flight from the unlikely arms dealer.

* * *

They had taken refuge in a low rent motel, using the winnings from a shell con Ezra set up. Vin almost immediately fell asleep on one of the beds, while Ezra caught up on current events through cable news and the newspaper.

"Where?" Vin suddenly shot upright in bed. "How many?" Vin glanced over towards the door, even as he slipped his shoes on and began stuffing their things into a plastic grocery bag. "We've got to move, Ezra. Humboldt's thugs found us. I bet the manager sold us out."

Ezra tried to reason with his panicked friend. "Vin, you were sleeping. It's just a nightmare. There is no reason to believe our location had been uncovered," he pointed out logically.

Vin tugged Ezra out of his chair and over to the window, parting the curtains just a crack. "Does that look like just a nightmare to you?" he demanded.

Ezra's eyes widened at the sight of Humboldt's lead enforcer, John Renfrew, flanked by two others. "How?" Ezra gasped.

"Adam woke me," Vin replied. "Are you ready to climb out the bathroom window with me yet?" The two managed to escape through the window just before they heard the crashing of wood and glass from the motel's front door. They ran, with Vin in the lead, and never looked back.

* * *

Ezra considered himself a young man of reason. Believing in ghosts and spirits was for children and superstitious fools. At least that was what his mother insisted when using others superstitions against them in her cons. Yet Vin was far from being a superstitious fool in Ezra's estimation. Sure, the boy was only ten years old to Ezra's twelve, but living on the street and on the run didn't leave much room for childish behavior. After thinking the events through logically, Ezra felt certain Vin's dream about being warned by the spirit Adam, must have been a manifestation of his subconscious mind cluing together signs of danger, from his admittedly powerful senses. It certainly made more sense than believing some ghost boy had decided to join them on their flight from Humboldt. Ezra probably would have continued to assume Adam was merely an especially detailed figment of Vin's imagination if he hadn't encountered Adam himself five weeks later.

* * *

The pair encountered a string of bad luck, amplified by Humboldt's decision to circulate fliers with the boys' images, advertising a bounty for their return. Vin felt certain they were being followed. Ezra agreed now would be a good time to move on, before their luck turned even worse. However, some of their money and supplies were stashed at another location. Ezra went to retrieve them, leaving Vin to stay hidden in their current hideout; an abandoned café. Their plan called for Ezra and Vin to rendezvous at dusk, and hike to the next westward town under the cover of darkness. Ezra easily gathered their hidden stash, and even managed to squeeze one last poker game into his allotted time, adding to their sadly depleted funds. He decided to head back ahead of schedule, and was nearly to their hideout when he noticed Mr. Renfrew skulking about the alley next to the café.

Ezra hid behind a stack of empty boxes the instant he identified Humboldt's trusted right hand man. Part of him screamed to flee immediately. Ezra could hear his mother's voice reminding him: it was a cruel world, and he couldn't expect anybody to lookout for him but himself. A quieter voice reminded him that Vin, in fact, had looked out for him on numerous occasions, even to Vin's own detriment.

Ezra took a calming breath and cautiously looked for Renfrew's companions, knowing the thug never traveled alone. Ezra quickly identified Humboldt's driver sitting in a Cadillac a block and a half down the road. A second later, he saw one of Renfrew's men step out of an adult bookstore with more of those damned fliers in his grasp. Ezra tried to tell himself it was good their location hadn't yet been discovered, otherwise Renfrew and his goons would already be breaking down the café doors. Yet he couldn't deny they were closing in. The worst part involved a tattered ten peso bill hanging on a nail near the back door of the café. Ezra won it in a poker pot some time ago and the boys used it as a signal to each other. When one boy was waiting for the other to arrive, the peso was hooked on the nail, which it was right now. That meant Vin was inside the café waiting for Ezra. Usually, Ezra felt little concern for his self-sufficient partner, but the current situation had fear riding heavy on his shoulders. He needed to get past Renfrew and see if Vin was still inside.

Just as Ezra concluded he should risk crossing the alley, and potentially Renfrew's line of sight, the man left the alley to join his associate with the fliers. The instant Renfrew rounded the corner of the building, Ezra bolted for the café's back door. The metal door opened with surprisingly quiet ease thanks to the oil Vin had applied to the hinges the week before. Inside Ezra saw their belongings tucked under the deep counter's bottom shelf. His eyes searched the main café twice before they locked on Vin's too still form.

"Vin," Ezra called in a harsh whisper. When his friend didn't so much as twitch in acknowledgment, Ezra rushed to his side. "Vin, Humboldt's men are here. We need to flee!" he insisted with hushed urgency. Then he got a look at Vin's vacant face and realized his friend was again 'lost' within his own mind. It had happened twice before in Ezra's presence, and from what Vin said after the last incident, those weren't the only times. Ezra suspected Vin had some sort of seizure disorder, but it wasn't like they could afford to go to a doctor to get a proper diagnosis. Last time, Vin came out of it with just a bit of shaking, so Ezra shook both of Vin's shoulders even as he glanced out the front window to see what Renfrew and the others were doing.

Ezra shook with more force than he intended, when he saw Renfrew and another man approaching the café again. Vin continued to stare, vacantly unaware of the harsh treatment. Realizing if they didn't move soon they would be spotted, Ezra tried to drag Vin across the room and down behind the café's large counter. Vin should have fallen to the floor when Ezra stumbled under his friend's weight, instead Ezra swore he saw, for just a second, the ghost image of another brown haired boy holding Vin's left side, helping Ezra carry Vin to safety. It wasn't easy, but strengthened by the fear-tainted adrenaline coursing through his system; Ezra maneuvered his unresisting friend onto the counter's bottom shelf, which closed with curtains instead of the usual cabinet doors.

"Vin, please wake up!" he whispered again, crouching beside his companion. Yet again there was no response. The one other time Ezra drew Vin back from being 'lost', he had sung to Vin; using the lyrics of the first stupid pop song to enter his mind. Ezra feared if he started singing to Vin now, Renfrew or one of the others would hear him.

"Hide, Ezra, now!" a cold air urged. Noise at the café's side door forced Ezra to abandon his friend for the meager safety of the second shelf just above Vin. The wisp of noise made by the fabric curtains as Ezra pulled them closed fell insignificant compared to the clang of metal from the heavy door.

"Go check out the kitchen," Renfrew instructed upon entering the café. "Tony, you look behind the counter. That clerk, better not have been lying about seeing those kids sneaking in here."

Ezra held his breath when Tony leaned over the top of the counter to get a look behind. He found himself praying to angels he didn't believe in, to ensure the thug didn't realize he was practically on top of the boys he'd spent the last two months hunting.

"There's nothing back here, but I'm damned near freezing my balls off. How can it be colder in here than it is outside? " Tony asked Renfrew, moving away from the counter again. "How much longer are we going to keep looking for these worthless bastards?"

"Until we find them or Mr. Humboldt tells us to stop looking," explained Renfrew in the bored voice of someone tired of repeating himself.

"But what's the point?" whined Tony. "We haven't heard so much as a peep from the blonde bimbo Humboldt called his girl. Surely, if the kid stole documentation on Humboldt's business, he would have given it to his mom. Whether she planned to blackmail Humboldt or take it to the cops, we should have heard something by now," the thug repeated.

"Maybe," Renfrew conceded, "or maybe the kid never got the chance to hand off Humboldt's info. You know the bimbo disappeared before Humboldt saw the kid and his friend run with a copy of the hard drive. I'm guessing the boys are running scared and mommy's MIA."

"Odd, the boss leaving copies of important information just laying around like that," Tony muttered in ongoing disgruntlement.

"Humboldt didn't leave copies of anything lying around!" Renfrew countered in a sharp tone. "The kid had all the right equipment to make the copies himself. All he had to do was plug it into Humboldt's computer, and the information was his to steal." Shaking his head in disgust, Renfrew continued, "That's how we know none of them is likely to go to the cops. No way would they allow a kid to do such a dangerous thing. Who the hell ever heard of using a boy as a spy anyway?" There were a few more shuffling noises as the two moved about the abandoned restaurant. "Let's get out of here. Have John keep an eye on the place just in case the clerk wasn't lying."

Ezra lost the rest of their conversation as the men left via the same door they entered. For a moment, Ezra nearly hyperventilated, having held his breath for much of the discussion. Relief swamped him at hearing his mother was safe from the arms dealer. He sent her a message when he realized her 'easy mark' was a mass murder by proxy, but he and Vin were forced to flee before her reply arrived. At least now he knew his mother still lived. The idea that he could possibly track her down tempted, but he knew Maude would have no interest in taking on a second son. Most of the time she really didn't want to bother with her first born; thus his numerous stays at boarding schools and with distant relatives. Ezra only accompanied Maude to Humboldt's mansion because she needed his help with her con.

Vin was the only reason Ezra escaped Humboldt's heavily guarded mansion alive. Ezra refused to abandon his young friend, to either Humboldt's nonexistent mercies, or the world's unforgiving care. Everything within Ezra insisted Vin was his to protect. Vin, himself, claimed they were meant to be brothers, facing the world together. Ezra wasn't sure he believed Vin, but it at least sounded nicer than Maude's view of the world.

"It's safe now," assured the chilly ghost voice in his ear. Ezra glanced around, wondering if he would get another glimpse of the child specter; the boy Adam, who he so often heard about from Vin.

Suddenly, Ezra remembered the state he found Vin in before they were forced to hide from Humboldt's men behind the counter. Climbing off the shelf, he crouched next to Vin again. His friend continued to stare, slack-jawed and unaware. Ezra reached out to shake him, but nearly panicked at the chill of Vin's skin.

"Vin, please, please, please! Please wake up," he begged. "Don't panic, Ezra," he sternly counseled himself. "Last time, singing woke him up, so . . . 'You can run on for a long time . . . Run on for a long time . . . Run on for a long time . . . Sooner or later God will cut you down.'" Ezra kept singing as he awkwardly rubbed soothing circles on Vin's back. He gently closed Vin's eye lids, in part because he found the empty stare unnerving, but also because he felt sure they must be achingly dry by now. Ezra finished the first song and moved on to other Johnny Cash favorites of Vin's, including 'Ring of Fire', 'A Boy Named Sue', 'Riders in the Sky', 'I Walk the Line' and 'The Wanderer'. After nearly a half hour of singing, Ezra's throat was starting to ache. He was beginning the second verse of 'The Man Comes Around,' when Vin finally began to show signs of waking.

Vin moaned, scrunching his face in displeasure. It took several long moments for the soothing melody he heard to be identified as Ezra voice. He knew the pain ricocheting through his skull meant he must have had another one of his fits. They started happening after Grandpa died, and he got put in the system. Even the families who seemed nice weren't quite sure what to do with a boy who would suddenly start impersonating a statue and then 'wake' with a migraine. He had been taken to a couple of doctors who couldn't find anything wrong. When his case worker mentioned visiting a psychiatric hospital, Vin chose to run. The funny thing was, the first place he settled was as a gofer at the Humboldt estate, where he met Ezra. Vin knew Ezra was the reason his whatever-the-heck-they-were had nearly disappeared. His hands rose to his face and cradled his head. "Ow," the ten-year-old whispered. "Reckon my head is about to fall off."

Vin's words were quiet enough to force Ezra to strain to hear him. Remembering the way Vin's senses acted particularly chaotic after he 'got lost', Ezra quieted his own tone when he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't wake you sooner. Renfrew and a couple other Humboldt thugs have been searching the area. I was able to sneak past them, to get inside, but you were . . . lost, and I could see them coming this way. I tried to shake you awake but it didn't work, so I hid us until they left."

"They were here? In the café?" wondered Vin. "How did they miss us?" Their location behind the counter wasn't in plain view, but neither was it all that well hidden.

"Tony never bothered to look behind the curtain," Ezra explained. "Clearly, the man wasn't hired for his intelligence." Ezra glanced towards the exit before admitting, "Adam may have lowered the temperature to encourage their hasty departure. We will have to be careful when we leave though. Someone told Renfrew they saw us coming in here, so he left John to keep watch."

"Not sure I'm up to moving just yet anyway," Vin admitted. They stayed hidden in the café until after dark, when Vin and Ezra snuck out the side door while John flirted with a waitress working the bar across the street. After the near miss, the boys kept moving until they reached Denver.

* * *

Now, sitting in the abandoned house watching the swarm of ATF agents mixed with local police across the road, Ezra wished he could speak with Adam directly and learn what their ghostly guardian knew about Agent Larabee. Rather than wait for Adam to magically appear and answer all of his questions, Ezra used his own skills, learned at his mother's knee, on how to judge a potential mark. Though Larabee was raising his voice to bark out orders, his language was firm and business like rather than vulgar or abusive. He noted the local police seemed to give the man a wide berth, more than one appearing to outright fear the man. Yet the other ATF agents showed no such hesitation to share the man's personal space. When they snapped to obey his commands, it was clear they did so out of respect, not fear.

Larabee deliberately ignored the gang leader spewing profanities and promising revenge. When the same leader threw his handcuffed body at the youngest of the ATF agents, apparently seeing him as the easiest victim, Larabee's response was swift and brutal, ending with the gang banger being thrown, bloody and face-down to the ground.

Larabee appeared to be one of those rare leaders who took the responsibility of protecting those he led seriously. Ezra felt certain he could convince Larabee to protect them once he saw how valuable their information was. There were risks, of course. Federal agents were just as likely as any other law enforcement official to try to place both boys in the foster care system. However, Ezra felt confident he and Vin could easily overcome such an obstacle, as long as they weren't also worrying about Humboldt's men trying to shoot them down in the street like rabid dogs.

"We will take the information to Larabee," Ezra decided, "but not now. Even if we can trust him, there are too many unknowns down there for us to risk making our presence known. I'll see about arranging a more private meeting. The opportunity to use our evidence to convict Humboldt should be enough to earn us protection." Ezra was already brainstorming ways to approach the agent while keeping their identities, especially their ages, secret. It would not do to be dismissed out of hand by the assumption that a child could never provide reliable information. Once he saw what they had, Larabee would have to accept its value.


	3. Not so secret meeting

I'd like to thank those who added this story to their 'favorites' list. For those who reviewed as guests or have disabled private messenger:

Bdaisey61 – Thank you for saying these stories so thoroughly capture your attention. I hope you continue to enjoy where this tale leads.

Fanfic4life – I'm glad you're enjoying my attempt to finally fill in the back story.

7kstar – Sorry about the delay. Real life kind of ate up my writing time in November and December.

JadWol – I promise to always finish every story I start. It may take me a while (3 ½ years was the longest so far), but I will finish them all.

* * *

Group Supervisor Chris Larabee of ATF's elite undercover unit, Team Seven, slid out of his truck with one smooth, graceful motion. All the while, piercing green eyes searched his surroundings. Meeting with confidential informants, or CIs, was a semi-regular event in Chris's work life, yet he moved with caution. He wasn't meeting one of his own CIs today, but someone new that a more reliable CI insisted he needed to know.

The need apparently involved hard evidence on one Michael Humboldt, a man whose business supposedly involved trucking and transportation. However, his case file indicated numerous ties to gangs and cartels on both sides of the Mexican/American border. Sadly, none of the ties found thus far were enough to charge him with the gun trafficking violations he remained suspected of. The ATF had their eye on Humboldt for a while now, but the gun smuggler showed significant skill at hiding and eliminating evidence. If the new informant really did have proof of Humboldt's guilt, it could be the break they'd been waiting for.

Chris would be happy to close out his ATF career with such a win, but even if this tip amounted to nothing he would still be leaving the ATF soon. He had dedicated all of his adult life to serving his country, first in the Navy and then as a federal agent. It wasn't until his wife and son were murdered that he realized how high the cost of his service would be. The only thing worse than losing his family became knowing their executioners still roamed free. When Assistant Director Travis insisted he needed to let the past go and stop investigating Sarah and Adam's deaths, Chris turned in his resignation. He had three weeks left to tie up the cases already under his team's purview and hand off the remaining ongoing cases. He almost hadn't agreed to this meet, but for some reason his gut insisted he needed to be here.

Word on the street of Humboldt's hired help searching for 'a missing friend', certainly gave credence to the theory of somebody knowing something Humboldt wanted to stay hidden. However, caution was never amiss when meeting an unknown on unfamiliar ground for the first time. That's why part of Chris's scan of his surroundings included verifying that all of his fellow agents were in position.

Nathan Jackson, the team's forensic expert and medic, looked decidedly dressed down today in his frayed jeans and stained sweat shirt as he knelt beside a decade old beater of a car and changed the street side rear tire. No one passing by suspected the hidden automatic attached to the underbody of the car magnetically, or the daggers secreted in a specially designed sheath strapped to his back.

Half a block away in the other direction, Josiah Sanchez, the team's psychological profiler and sometimes philosopher, stood clutching a stack of pamphlets proclaiming, "Jesus Saves!", as he preached to anyone passing by on the virtues of mercy and forgiveness.

The 'Water & Sewage Treatment' van parked next to an open manhole, with an oddly shaped tent connecting and concealing the hole and the back of the van, held his last two agents. JD Dunne, their technical specialist, had already confirmed the equipment set up, and then waited on Chris's arrival. The second the blonde leader pulled his truck into view, JD began recording every move he made. The most important monitor was tied to the small, hopefully unnoticeable camera Chris wore in the neck clip to his string tie. Beside JD, the SEAL trained, explosives expert, Buck Wilmington, kept one eye on the monitors as he tucked another clip of ammunition into one of the many pockets of his tactical vest.

Chris noted several people in the area. Most appeared to have legitimate reasons for being there, though Chris became suspicious when a rough looking teen bearing violet gang insignia seemed a little too focused on the closed down auto shop where Chris planned to meet his new informant. The greasy haired teen turned away and disappeared down a side street. "JD, keep an eye out towards Fifth Avenue," Chris instructed quietly, knowing his high tech microphone would easily pick up even the quietest whisper. "We aren't the only ones interested in what's in the auto shop."

"Fifth Avenue," JD confirmed, adjusting another of his monitors, "Got it."

"I'm going in," Chris informed his team. As he approached the abandoned business, he noted the slightly ajar front door. Checking carefully for trip wires or others traps he cautiously entered. The check-in/customer waiting area was dusty and dirty but otherwise empty, except for a couple old vinyl chairs. Chris moved through a side door to the vehicle repair bays, his eyes immediately drawn to an old wheeled tool cart stacked with white papers laying in stark contrast to their dingy, often oil coated surroundings. Though he didn't see anyone else, Chris noted several places where others could hide in the shadows, and the hairs on the back of his neck insisted he was being watched.

Deciding to play along with his mystery contact's game, he picked up one of the papers and began to read aloud knowing his team would hear every word, "Manuel Ortega," the email print out began, "The increased security along the boarder has caused the price of the weapons you ordered to raise another ten thousand dollars. If you cannot meet this price increase I suggest you be prepared to see those same weapons in the hands of your rivals. I will expect payment in my account by the first Monday of the month or our deal is off. Sincerely, Michael Humboldt." Chris snorted in derision, "So much for Humboldt's claims to not know any cartel members."

"There's more evidence where that came from," assured a rough voice from a particularly dark shadow to Chris's left.

Chris resisted the urge to turn towards the newcomer since it was clear he wasn't yet ready to show himself. Instead he inspected the next paper. "Would these addresses identify where Humboldt stores his weapons?" Chris asked hoping to draw the contact out. There was something odd about his voice, forced maybe. Chris wanted to lay eyes on this person. You could discover a lot about others from not just their facial expressions, but also their body language.

"I will require assurances before I give you more information," insisted the voice.

Though the contact again tried to disguise his intonation, Chris realized what sounded so wrong about it. It was young, very young. "I can't make assurances until I know what kind of assurances you want," countered Chris. "I also don't make deals with people I can't look in the eye." Chris willed the hidden figure to step into the light. "Why don't you come out of the shadows so we can talk?"

A good twenty seconds of dead silence passed before Chris finally heard movement. Even though Chris had suspected his contact's youth, he still felt surprised by the short stature, and pale, unlined face of the boy. If the child before him could claim teenage status, Chris would sell his horse. How the hell did such a boy get his hands on Humboldt's most secret business records?

"There will be no deal, if you can't guarantee protection for my brother and me," the boy demanded firmly, just the hint of a southern accent leaking out, "and we will also need assurances we will not be prosecuted for any minor laws we may have bent while gathering evidence or evading Humboldt's miscreants."

Chris almost reassessed his estimation of the kid's age. What ten or eleven-year-old used the word 'miscreant' in common speak? Then he decided the boy used the big words for the same reason he deliberately pitched his voice so low; to appear more mature and more likely to be taken seriously. The child seemed to be struggling valiantly to hold his face in an unreadable mask, but Chris could see the fear and pleading in his eyes. He didn't know what the AFT would be willing to do on the boy's behalf, but Chris silently swore that the boy and his still unseen brother would come to no harm on his watch.

"I've never lost a witness who was placed in my protective custody," Chris informed, hoping it would encourage the boy to trust him at least a bit. Though a dark corner of his mind jeered, what use was it to protect witnesses when he couldn't protect his own wife and child? Chris forced the thought away and focused on the child before him. "The more information you give me, the better I can help you. I think you already know my name is Chris. Will you tell me your name?"

"You may call me Ezra," the boy offered, extending his hand to be enveloped in the agent's large grip.

* * *

"Holy cow!" exclaimed JD as he continued to stare at the live feed. "It's just a kid! If that boy is twelve, I'll eat my hat," JD swore.

"Then I hope he's twelve," muttered Buck, "Because you surely need a new hat."

"But Buck," JD motioned to the small screen, baffled by Buck's calm acceptance of the child's presence in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation.

"I see," confirmed Buck, "and you're probably right about the boy's age. He should be in school or maybe ditching class to play video games, not bargaining with a federal agent for his and his brother's safety. Life doesn't always work out the way it's supposed to. There are a lot of places around the world where kids are handed guns as soon as they are old enough to hold them. Chris and I have been in combat situations where some of our allies as well as our opponents weren't much older than him. We've seen kids that weren't old enough to shave, fight and die to defend their villages, their families and their beliefs. It's just as well Chris agreed to take this meet. He'll give the kid a fair hearing, where a lot of others would simply assume he's too young to know anything of value."

Buck's cool retort cut through JD's protests. The surveillance agent paused to listen to the way Chris questioned the boy, Ezra. The team leader, while speaking in a gentler tone than he usually reserved for work, wasn't dismissive or condescending. Instead he listened intently, questioning only to clarify and generally giving Ezra's words the same weight he would any other informant's. _'Part of what makes my Dad the coolest is that he never talks to me like I'm just a little kid.'_ JD heard Adam Larabee's long ago spoken words whisper through his head. JD realized it was odd for him to dismiss the new informant as just a child when he was almost the same age Adam would be now. From the first day Chris had introduced JD to his son; the agent had always seen Adam as a friend first, with his youth only a minor consideration in their bond. JD resolved to treat Ezra and his still unseen brother the same he would have treated Adam were he here.

"JD," Nathan's deep voice broke over the communications link. "Agent Kelly is headed you way and he doesn't look happy."

"Got it," JD replied. He turned to the back of the truck to watch ATF's Team Eight leader climb into the back of the van. "Is there a problem, sir?" Group Supervisor Ryan Kelly might not be a direct superior, but it never hurt to be respectful, especially to those who might be in a bad mood.

Buck shifted to make room for the third man in the ever more cramped van. He nodded his head in greeting and smiled to note that Kelly had changed into a hard hat and jacket labeled with the same 'Water & Sewage Treatment' lettering that covered the side of the van. "What's up, Kelly. It's not like you to turn up unexpectedly in the field."

"Kirk said that you boys were running surveillance while Chris met with some new confidential informant regarding information on Michael Humboldt, correct?" Kelly waited for verification before explaining his sudden arrival, "Doug just passed intelligence through a dead drop that the Gallant Knights Insane were contracted by Humboldt to execute a rat that had slipped through his fingers. Doug didn't have any details about who the rat might be, but considering where the meet is, it's highly probable that your new informant is the Knight's target."

Buck frowned, "That would explain some activity Chris noted when he first arrived. Josiah and Nathan, I want you to keep your eyes peeled for anymore gang activity." Sighing, he further instructed, "JD, let Chris know the kid has a target on him and we're going to want to extract him and his brother as soon as possible." There was a small chance the gang member they had seen before, the contract with the Knights, and the activity from Humboldt's men were unrelated. Buck decided he would rather err on the side of caution, he really never believed in coincidence, anyway.

"Kid?" inquired Kelly.

"It looks like that bit of youth in need of a growth spurt is Chris's new informant," Buck motioned to the screen.

Kelly's jaw dropped when he saw the young boy Chris was talking to. "I'll call Kirk and Brett. They were only five minutes away. It wouldn't hurt to have a little more back up if things go sideways."

* * *

"Do you mind if I send a copy of these to some of my coworkers for verification?" asked Chris. He pulled his smart phone off its clip on his belt to show Ezra how he intended to do so.

"I expected you to want to verify the validity of the evidence," stated Ezra, more of his accent slipping out again. "However, I would suggest you act with extreme caution regarding whom you share this information with. What you see before you is only a tenth of what we have to offer. The reason we haven't already presented it to another law enforcement official involves Humboldt's habit of keeping members of local police and federal agencies on his payroll. Sadly, he never included their names in his payoff ledger. We decided to contact you because you were personally vouched for by the only person besides myself that my brother trusts." Ezra stepped forward another step and leveled an intense glare at Chris. "As it is both my and my brother's lives that are at stake, I sincerely hope you can live up to your reputation."

This new information kept Chris's mind swirling even as he used the camera function to photo copy the printed documents. If Humboldt had cops and agents feeding him information, it would easily explain how he always seemed to be able to cover his illegal activities. Chris didn't know who would have vouched for him, but he felt glad somebody sent them in his direction. "As a precaution, I'd like to get you and your brother into protective custody as soon as possible. Is your brother nearby?"

"Closer than you might think," answered a quiet drawl behind and to the left of Chris.

The wide smirk on Ezra's face let Chris know that his surprise at having an unknown behind him had been noticed. Turning he saw another boy, a bit shorter and likely even younger than the first, with a cocky grin and twinkling blue eyes. Realizing he would be getting lots of teasing from Buck in the future for having allowed what looked like a ten-year-old to get the drop on him, Chris asked, "Have you got a name, kid?"

"My name's Vin Tanner," the younger boy introduced, completely ignoring the older boy's muttering about no last names.

Chris noted Vin's accent spoke more of Texas than the deep south. A quick examination of their appearance showed little in way of physical resemblance. One possessed short straight hair while the other's was longer and curly. Blue eyes contrasted with green. Even their body language was markedly different. Chris's eyes continued to dart from one boy to the other as Vin walked to Ezra's side.

"We were raised by different mothers," Ezra volunteered, as though reading Chris's mind, "which isn't really relevant to the matter at hand. You said you wanted to place us in protective custody. Does that mean you are willing to guarantee our safety for evidence on Humboldt?"

"I'd like to . . ." Chris was interrupted by JD speaking urgently into his earpiece. The agent grimaced, "Humboldt's apparently hired the Gallant Knights Insane to deal with his potential information leak. We need to get you boys out of here now." Chris recalled the gang-banger he had notice before entering the abandoned shop. He also knew they were in the heart of Knight territory.

While Chris explained the situation, Vin cocked his head to the side in a way that told Ezra he was listening to something else. A momentarily distant look was erased when Ezra rubbed his brother's arm. Jaw clinched, Vin shifted to lookout one of the windows. "Crap! It's too late!" Vin warned as he dived away from the window towards his brother.

Seconds later bullets exploded through the glass.

* * *

**Author's note:** There is a Denver gang known as the Gallant Knights Insane, but all that I know about them is what I found in Wikipedia. No offense was intended.


	4. Shoot out

Thank you everyone who added this story to their 'favorites' list or reviewed. I love getting a chance to respond to others' thoughts on each chapter. For those who reviewed as guests or have disabled private messenger:

bluesunVM – It's funny even though I hate reading cliffhangers, I still sometimes end up writing them.

Sisturnickyahoo – I'm happy to hear you liked the first meeting between Chris, Ezra and Vin. We'll see a bit of Ezra and Vin's first meeting later.

Lunaz – It's a wonderful to hear my writing leaves you wanting more. Thank you.

* * *

Glass shards flew through the air, while bullets ricocheted against the concrete and metal interior of the three-bay garage. Chris caught a fleeting glance of two . . . no three street thugs walking towards the garage's rear glass doors with their handguns aimed. "I've got three shooters coming at us from the north," Chris shouted over the bullets so his team would know the situation. He pushed the boys towards the dubious cover of the tool cart, using his own Kevlar covered body to limit their exposure. Aiming his own gun, Chris fired off six shots, two at each opponent. The first thug went down hard with what looked to be a serious injury. The other two dodged when they realized this bore little resemblance to the one-sided gun battle they were expecting. Chris thought he might have clipped one of the moving targets, but the more important factor was the way they stopped shooting while seeking cover.

* * *

Kelly hastily strapped on the Kevlar vest Buck had shoved in his direction with the first echo of bullets.

_"I've got three shooters coming at us from the north,"_ Chris's voice, mixed with gunfire, crackled through the surveillance van's speakers.

"Nathan, move up to the south entrance to support Chris," Buck barked in command. "Josiah and I will sweep in from the right. JD and Kelly will take the left flank." The mustached scoundrel spared just a second to hear his orders confirmed before jumping out the back, a heavy rifle in his arms.

JD nodded to Buck as he repeated his call for backup, "I say again: shots fired at Fourth and High. Agent pinned down with civilians, and taking fire. Send back-up immediately!" JD grabbed his own rifle, took a moment to securely lock the van, and followed after Agent Kelly.

* * *

Nathan pulled his automatic out from under the car and ran across the street. The civilians, who moments before were strolling the sidewalks, now ran for cover under the continuing gunfire. "Chris, I'm coming in through the front," the medic warned, not wanting to be mistaken for a bad guy in the confusion. The door was only halfway open when Nathan noticed four more gang members approaching from his left. The violet lettering on their hoodies proclaimed their allegiance to the Gallant Knights Insane. Arrogant, malicious grins played across their faces as they took aim at the vulnerable agent. "I've got four more out here," Nathan shouted with a hint of desperation. He hoped someone else could act, because he was far too exposed by the glass doorway.

"Federal agents! Drop your weapons!" shouted Kelly, his Sig Sauer rifle pointed towards the men stalking Nathan. Three turned their weapons on Kelly and JD bringing an eruption of gunfire from both sides. The fourth stayed on target shooting at Nathan. Luckily his aim went high, or Nathan was just that good at dodging, allowing him to dive into the cover of the building without injury. JD and Kelly took cover behind a car while doing their best to pin their four Knights down and prevent further attacks from the left side.

* * *

Josiah rounded the corner of the old brick building followed closely by Buck. Twenty feet away they saw a still running car with several of its doors hanging open. Moving forward at a cautious jog, weapons ready, they came upon an injured Knight first. The young tattoo covered man bled heavily from his chest, but that didn't stop Josiah from kicking his gun out of his hand and securing the criminal with handcuffs. The man's lack of any response beyond a moan, gave a strong indication of the seriousness of his wound. Triggering his microphone Josiah announced, "We're going to need at least one ambulance. We've got a GSW to the chest. What's the ETA on our backup?"

Buck practically chomped at the bit to rush forward, especially since he heard Nathan's warning of the four other combatants on the south side of the building. If they didn't count the gang member on the ground beside Josiah there were at least six Knights to their six agents. Even odds might sound good in Vegas, but the margin became far less comfortable in a gun fight. Buck's history with the SEALs taught him that when you didn't have the advantage of superior numbers you needed to use surprise and overwhelming firepower to take the initiative and win the battle. Unfortunately, while the team had been cautious about this first meet, they hadn't expected a firefight. They'd been caught unprepared, allowing the Knights to take the initiative. Experience, training and luck were the only reasons none of their own were on the ground bleeding out. Usually, it was situations like this where Chris would jump into the fight with manic glee; walking unfazed through a hail of bullets, taking out targets with deadly precision, and generally being intimidating enough to scare at least one or two of their opponents into surrendering. That would not happen while Chris still had two boys to keep safe. Which meant it was up to the rest of them to save the day.

_"Brett and I are less than two minutes away,"_ the voice of Kelly's surveillance expert, Kirk Gustin, informed them. _"Local PD will take closer to four minutes to reach you."_

Four minutes could be an eternity in a gunfight. Would Chris and Nathan be able to protect the boys for that long? Buck didn't like the idea of leaving Josiah when more of the Knights might show up, but he needed to move up and help Chris and Nathan.

"Go on Buck," Josiah made the decision for him. "I'll stay with this one and make sure no one else comes up on your back trail." The profiler shifted to brace his back against a wall while a dumpster gave him additional coverage. Readying a gun in each hand Josiah encouraged, "Best hurry if you want to get to the party before it's over."

* * *

Though his gunfire had kept the two remaining Knights from entering the building from the north, a quick glance show them edging closer. "Were either of you boys hit?" asked Chris. When he got negative head shakes from both boys, he released a quick breath of relief and began to formulate a plan. "We're going to head for the door to the waiting area, rolling this cart with us to maintain a moving cover," Chris explained. "As soon as I fire my gun I want you to start moving." Chris turned to shoot at the closest of the Knights, forcing the Latino to duck back behind a car. He felt pleased to see both boys moving with the rolling tool cart, keeping their heads down all the way.

"I've got you covered this way," alerted Nathan from their target doorway. When Ezra and Vin reached him, he urged, "Get behind the counter, right now boys."

"Did I hear you say there were another four out front?" asked Chris. "That's a lot of firepower for two kids."

"Humboldt must be real worried about whatever evidence they've got on him," Nathan noted. "JD and Kelly have them pinned down on the road, but I don't know how long that's going to last." As if in response, several bullets sailed through the windows of the waiting room. A cry from one of the boys turned both agents around.

"Ezra's been shot," exclaimed Vin in a quavering voice. Both of his hands were clamped tight to Ezra's left arm, while blood seeped through his fingers.

"Let me get a look at it," Nathan instructed, as he handed his automatic to Chris and mentally switched into medic mindset. "This is going to hurt, but I need to examine your injury," he warned Ezra. Vin hesitated, refusing to release his grip on his brother until Ezra nodded his okay. Only then did he lessen his hold and make room for the dark skinned agent. Nathan eased Ezra's arm out of his jacket to find a bloody mess of fabric obscuring his view. The medic slipped one of his knives out of its sheath and slit the fabric from elbow to shoulder.

"My shirt," Ezra protested for the first time.

"I'll get you a new one later," Nathan dismissed absently, most of his focus on examining the wound. "It's a through and through of your left bicep. That means the bullet isn't in your arm, which is good, but we still need to get the bleeding under control," Nathan explained calmly, hoping to keep Ezra and Vin from panicking. Nathan ignored the ongoing exchange of bullets between Chris and their attackers. Pulling a bandana out of his pocket, he wrapped it around both the entrance and exit to the wound. He tied the ends tight enough to hold the bandage in place but not so tight as to cut off circulation. Ezra's injury, while serious, he was not bleeding badly enough to require a tourniquet. "Vin, my name is Nathan," he called the younger boy's attention. "I want you to keep steady pressure on your brother's bandage while I check out the back office."

"How bad is he hurt?" demanded Chris when Nathan moved up to retrieve his gun. Another bullet soaring through the waiting area kept both men in defensive crouches.

"Fine, if we can get him to a hospital and out of this mess," Nathan replied. "I'm going to check the office. It had a back door according to the blueprints, and I want to get a look at where it goes before we try to use it." He paused while Chris fired two more shoots at the Knights hovering just outside the garage's doors, and then asked, "How are you for bullets?"

"I've still got another twenty-three rounds. I've only been firing enough to keep them pinned down," Chris explained. "Brett and Kirk are about a minute away. Local PD is maybe two more minutes behind them. Hopefully we can hold off the Knights until then. Checking the back office exit is a good idea, especially if they decide to rush us." Chris knew he could probably keep the two Knights to the north occupied until backup arrived, but the four to the southwest trading bullets with Kelly and JD, could cause serious damage if they decided to change the direction of their gunfire.

Nathan nodded and scuttled back behind the counter to the wooden office door. Cautiously gripping the handle Nathan checked if it was locked. Finding the knob turning freely, the agent pushed the door open in a rush, his other hand aiming his gun into the empty space. While he had not expected to find any one in the office, too many unexpected things had already occurred this afternoon for Nathan to take chances. The small dusty room possessed no windows, but as the blueprints indicated, it did have a door. This one made of heavy steel and dead-bolted shut, sat on the building's back wall. While part of Nathan wanted to turn the bolts and escort the boys away from the gun battle as quickly as possible, he knew he had to wait. According to Chris, the Knights who started this gun battle came from the north, the same direction the steel door opened to. Until Nathan knew the Knights had shifted their positions he couldn't risk taking the possible escape without offering the Knights a new target.

* * *

Buck took four more careful steps forward before ducking behind the partial cover of a stack of wooden pallets. "Chris, if you can keep the Knight who's trying to slip through the broken glass distracted, I can eliminate his friend."

"Understood," Chris replied in his ear piece. A second later Chris's shout rang out from the besieged garage. "We're federal agents. Drop your weapons and surrender immediately or we will respond with deadly force!" Chris's words offered the warning Buck couldn't give without exposing his position.

A warning the Gallant Knights Insane chose to ignore. "You'd have already arrested us if you could," the Knight closest to Chris taunted in reply.

While the other Knight laughed in agreement Buck stepped forward again and fired. Three bullets hit the gang member center mass. He crumpled to the ground, his laughter transforming into a wet gurgle. Buck swept his gun towards the remaining Knight, but only fired off one round before he felt the impact of bullets hitting his Kevlar. They hit hard enough to knock the wind out of him and make him stumble back into cover. Though he did see the same Knight who shot him receive several bullets of his own from Chris's gun. Without a bullet proof vest to protect him, the projectiles tore through his chest and shoulder, causing him to drop his gun as he slumped to the ground. Locking eyes with the winded agent behind him, the still defiant Knight raised a cell phone to his mouth and ordered, "Kill them! Kill them all now!"

* * *

It wouldn't be until much later, while reading the incident reports, when JD Dunne and Ryan Kelly would understand what caused the four Knights taking cover across the street to choose that moment to charge the old auto shop. All the two agents knew, was one moment their opponents seemed content to trade the occasional bullet from behind the relative safety of the cars they were using for cover, and the next they opened a barrage of gunfire towards the JD and Ryan, forcing their heads down.

JD still saw enough before pulling back to realize what the Knights were doing. The young agent tapped his microphone to warn the others, "Nathan, Chris. The four Knights are charging the south entrance."

Beside him Ryan slammed a new clip into his gun. "Let's make those numbers a little more manageable."

"Let's," agreed JD. Both men popped up in unison, firing on the gang despite the bullets whipping in their direction. One of the Knights ran through the flying metal unhindered, easily making it safely to the auto shop door. The second Knight stumbled and fell with the impacts of multiple bullets. The medical examiner would later retrieve three bullet from the body and a forth from the arm of the man's corpse. The third and forth Knights also staggered from impacts, but none of their wounds were detrimental enough to stop them as they followed their leader into the building.

Agent Kelly broke cover to move across the street. JD followed, his weapon aimed towards the building. He could hear an intense gun battle going on inside, he even caught glimpses through the shattering glass windows, but it was not clear enough to risk shooting half blind and possibly hitting Chris, Nathan or one of the kids.

Agent Kelly reached the downed Knight first. It only took seconds to verify the man was dead and retrieve his weapon. The squeal of tires drew the attention and aim of both JD and Ryan. A second later Ryan sighed in relief at recognizing his two agents, Brett Jordan and Kirk Gustin as they leapt out of Kirk's car, weapons ready. Ryan signaled his men to approach from the right while he and JD continued to move towards the building's left side.

JD moved into the lead position, eager to aid his team. He could only pray that the increasingly sporadic gunfire meant the others were still okay.

* * *

Chris finally felt like he had a bit of breathing room, thanks to Buck's assistance in eliminating the threats from the Knights on the north side of the shop. Now they only had to worry about the Knights out on the street, and JD and Ryan seemed to have them pinned down pretty well.

As if in response; a sudden burst of gunfire erupted, followed by JD's urgent warning in his ear, _"Nathan, Chris. The four Knights are charging the south entrance."_

Wondering what he had done in a past life to earn such bad luck in this one Chris barked, "Nathan, I need you back up here."

"Coming," replied Nathan from the office. The dark skinned agent kept his head down as he moved behind the counter to join the children. "Boys, I want you to move back into the office. You will be a little safer in there. It has a back door, but I don't want you to go through it unless Chris or I tell you to run. Do you understand me?"

The boys replied with simple nods of their heads, because the small building once again filled with the deafening roar of gun blasts. Nathan urged the boys into the office and closed the door to give them every bit of cover he could. When Nathan turned and rose to fire over the counter he was disheartened to see two Knight enter, joining a third who kept Chris on the defensive with a steady stream of fire.

"Reloading," warned Chris, so Nathan knew to expect a break in his defense. Nathan adjusted by increasing his own rate of fire. He also noticed Buck firing towards their attackers, from the area of the repair bays.

"Ain't none of you getting out of here alive," threatened one of the Knights.

Nathan waited for the typically arrogant Larabee retort, but instead found silence and Chris's frown. Finally Chris murmured to Nathan, "I want you to take the boys out the back door. Buck and I cleared out the Knights on that side, so you should be okay."

Nathan wanted to argue, but he understood why Chris insisted on placing the safety of two unknown boys above his own life. Nathan also knew Chris would never use his preferred tactic of going on the offensive as long as the boys were at risk and in need of defending. "I'll get them somewhere safe," Nathan assured as he crept back towards the office door.

* * *

Try as he might, Vin just could not figure out how things had gone from surprisingly smooth to horrifically crap-tastic in the space of a few seconds. Agent Larabee had not only believed their information was real, but offered to take them into protective custody immediately. For a few brief seconds Vin thought they were really going to succeed in escaping from months of Humboldt's continuous threats. Then the local gang showed up, eager to collect the bounty Humboldt had placed on their heads. He also could not forget Ezra, still bleeding from a gunshot wound. Larabee and Nathan seemed to be holding the Knights back for now, but Vin had not forgotten Nathan telling them they might need to run.

"Your bleeding is slowing down," Vin told Ezra after rechecking the makeshift bandage again. "That's a good sign, right?" The younger boy meant to sound reassuring, but it came out decidedly uncertain.

"Nothing to worry about Vin," Ezra assured. "Once that Neanderthal who destroyed my shirt finds a suitable replacement, I'll be as good as new." Ezra frowned before he continued, "I hope he isn't foolish enough to seek a replacement at Walmart. I refuse to accept anything less than the highest quality haberdashery." Ezra made a valiant effort to appear calm and collected, but Vin noticed the way his eyes kept darting towards the sounds of ongoing gunfire. He also knew the more four and five syllable words Ezra used, the more concerned or upset Ezra was.

Both boys tensed when the door Nathan earlier shooed them through, opened again. Nathan slipped through the opening to join Ezra and Vin. He did a quick exam of Ezra's arm, nodded in apparent satisfaction, and explained, "Chris wants me to move you out the back while he and some of our teammates keep the Knights occupied. Do you think you boys are ready to get out of here?"

"Eminently," said Ezra.

"Let's go already," agreed Vin reaching for the back door's knob.

"Wait," Nathan's dark hand grasped the knob quicker. "Let me check first." With his gun ready, Nathan turned the deadbolt and cautiously opened the steel door. He poked his head through the opening, checking in all directions before deciding, "Every thing looks clear. Let's move boys." Nathan opened the door wider to let Ezra and Vin through when something unexpected happened. What had been a light breeze, from outside, became a sudden gust as air was pulled from the office, through the waiting area, and back out the now shattered windows. The wind tunnel effect proved strong enough to slam the door between the office and waiting area wide open, leaving Nathan, Ezra and Vin suddenly exposed.

"Time to die!" shouted one of the Knights.

"Run boys," Nathan urged while spinning to face the newest danger. Surprisingly, the Knight was not even looking in his direction. Instead the muscular Latino, who for some reason jumped up on the cashier's counter; making himself a bigger target, pointed his gun in the same location Nathan last saw Chris. Nathan fired without hesitation. Four bullets knocked the Knight off the counter to the waiting area floor.

"I surrender, I surrender," shouted another unknown voice.

"Nathan!" yelled Buck, "Chris has been hit."

His medic instincts moved Nathan to the doorway immediately. He felt relieved to see what looked like only a minor leg wound. "Buck, I want you to use those first aid classes I gave you and apply pressure. I need to catch up to those boys. I told them to run and we don't want to lose them." JD entered the broken, front door with his gun ready. Agent Kelly followed right behind him. The two men quickly disarmed and restrained the last of the Gallant Knights Insane.

"Nathan, you worry too much," assured Buck as he pressed down to stop Chris's bleeding. "It's not like they can get too far on foot."

"Go, Nathan," hissed Chris as he suffered through Buck's ham fisted medical skills.

Nathan hurried out to the back ally. "Ezra! Vin! It's safe to come back boys." Noting only solid brick wall stood to the east, Nathan jogged west, scanning back and forth for any sign of the boys. "Ezra, Vin, where are you?" Spanish cursing to his right led Nathan to discover another Knight, this one struggling against a pair of handcuffs which bound him to a concrete post. Deciding the thorough restraining effort was most likely the handy work of Buck, he continued moving. Keying his microphone, Nathan asked, "Does anyone have eyes on the boys? They likely headed west from the back of the auto shop."

"Nathan," replied Josiah's deep resounding voice from both his ear piece and a few yards away. "I have good news, and I have bad news. I did see the boys pass by me and they both looked okay at the time."

"You didn't stop them?" Nathan asked surprised.

"I never got the chance," explained Josiah. "By the time I noticed them, they were already pulling away in the same car the Knights arrived in."

"Wait," Nathan demanded, "You're saying Ezra and Vin, neither of whom could possibly be old enough to have a driver's license, just drove off in a stolen car?" When Josiah's only reply consisted of a deep chuckle, Nathan keyed his microphone again. "Chris, we're going to need to put out a BOLO . . . "

* * *

Vin helped Ezra maneuver his injured arm into the sleeve of the too large jacket they found earlier in the back seat of the stolen car. The first few seconds after they heard Nathan's order to run had been a blind rush. Luckily, Ezra noticed the still running car in the small lot bordering the alley and appropriated the car, as Ezra called it, for their use. Now, miles away in the parking lot of a highway truck stop they were abandoning it for others to find. Ezra figured the police might be looking for the car even if the vehicle's owner remained too tied up to hunt for it. Better to ditch it now than get caught in it later. While the boys agreed Agent Larabee seemed sincere in his desire to protect them, that didn't mean they were willing to trust the rest of the Denver area's law enforcement community. Not until Larabee figured out who was on Humboldt's payroll.

Ezra looked decidedly irritated at being forced to wear, "some sweaty hooligan's cast offs," but Vin refused to budge. Vin could easily wash the blood off his hands in the truck stop bathroom. However, Ezra's clothing, especially his torn and blood soaked sleeve, presented a far larger cleaning challenge. Covering it with the jacket resulted in a quick, easy fix. While Vin buttoned up the jacket, Ezra fished two crumpled bills out of one of the pockets with his good hand. Noting the denominations totaled twenty-five dollars, he asked, "Are you as famished as I? After the terror and trauma we've been subjected to, not to mention my pain and suffering, I believe a filling meal is the least we are owed." Ezra stood to head towards the truck stop's restaurant, but wavered on his second step, and would have tipped sideways on his third if not for Vin's quick reactions.

"Maybe you should rest while I get the food," Vin offered.

Ezra's meek nod proved just how weakened his bullet wound left him. Vin vanished within the store for a several minutes, while Ezra struggled with increasing exhaustion. He just wanted to curl up and fall asleep. Surely he would feel better after a little nap . . .

"I know where we need to go next," Vin stated excitedly.

"Where?" Ezra asked, perhaps a bit ruder than needed. At least Vin did not seem to notice his words had woken Ezra out of a half doze.

"If we climb into the back of that pick-up truck and hide under its tarp, we can sneak out at its next stop, and we'll only have to hike about a mile," Vin explained.

"To where?" Ezra asked again, certain Vin's description lacked vital details.

Vin offered up his most hopeful puppy dog eyes. "To Agent Larabee's house," he admitted.

"Would I be correct in assuming our spectral friend Adam, is the one who is providing you with directions?" asked Ezra. At Vin's nod, Ezra paused to consider. He didn't ask how Adam came to possess such knowledge. The vague replies Vin had shared in the past where not important. In Ezra's estimation, their initial meeting with Agent Larabee went better than expected. Not counting the attack by those 'insane gang knights' or whatever they called themselves, of course, but Ezra did not blame Chris or his team for what happened. He and Vin had been surviving on luck for weeks now. Such streaks eventually ran out, as his aching arm currently testified. What mattered remained the way Larabee took their words and information seriously. No doubt, agents were even now checking the validity of the documents left behind in the chaos. Larabee's offer to protect them could not be anything but sincere, in fact, "Agent Larabee's promise to protect us could be interpreted as an invitation to share the safety of his home."

"Does that mean we're doing it," asked Vin.

"We'll need to contact the agent again at some point," Ezra reminded. "It might as well be somewhere we know he will eventually return to."

"And while we wait we can enjoy the running water and electricity," Vin pointed out. "I bet he's got cable too."

"So where is this truck you mentioned?" asked Ezra as he slowly stood.

"Right this way," directed Vin, dismayed by how much of Ezra's weight he needed to support to help him into the vehicle. Vin told himself not to worry. They could re-bandage Ezra's wounded arm at Larabee's place. Then they would simply have to wait for Agent Larabee to return home. Everything would work out fine if they could just hold out a little longer.


End file.
